


Breathe

by canardroublard



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canardroublard/pseuds/canardroublard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 a.m. during a power outage is probably an odd time to have another life-altering realization about the depth of his feelings for Selina, but Bruce has learned not to question these things. Mostly because she tells him to shut up. Post 2.15</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

“Kid, hold still! Jeez, you are the worst patient ever,” Selina gripes at him, trying to keep the ice pack on his bruised eye.

“I’m fine, Selina. I will have some soft-tissue bruising, but otherwise I got out relatively unharmed,”Bruce replies as evenly as he can around his split lip. With an eye-roll and a mutter about him being “ridiculous” she shoves the ice pack into his hands and stalks off to flop down on the couch. Great, he’s made her mad. Stupid, Bruce.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I sh-“ Blackness. The power went out. Well, that was unexpected.

“Goddamnit, not this again,” Selina groans, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights which pierced through holes in the threadbare curtains. “This place is such a shithole, I never should’ve moved out of Gordon’s psycho girlfriend’s apartment.”

“It’s done this before?”

“Yeah, all the time.” She hauls herself up and strides over to the bed. “Look, we might as well go to sleep now. Power won’t be back ‘til morning and it’ll be frickin’ Antarctica in here with no heat.”

Oh, right, sleeping arrangements. When Selina had dragged him home earlier, bloody and bruised, he hadn’t bothered to take stock of his surroundings. That was something to work on - must be more alert. Now, however, he makes the alarming discovery that there is only one tiny mattress on the floor.

“I’ll take the couch?” He hadn’t meant it as a question, but what is the protocol for this? Never in his years had he been to so much as a sleepover, let alone… whatever this is.

“Bruce, don’t be stupid. You’ve grown, like, a foot in the past month. Your freakishly large stature will not fit on that dinky little couch. Besides, I don’t really have extra blankets.”

Opening his mouth to protest the ‘freakishly large’ dig, his brain comes to a sudden halt. Wait a second, does she… is she suggesting? No, that can’t be right.

“Then I’ll take the floor,” he hedges. Sleeping on the floor would be new. That was the point of this whole adventure, to learn to live with less. It would be good for him. Maybe it would be less rock-like than it looked. ‘Yeah, sure,’ his brain supplies, unhelpfully.

“Not if you don’t wanna get eaten alive. Between the roaches and the rats I don’t like your chances.” She turns away and sits on the far side of the bed, very conspicuously not looking at him and fidgeting with her goggles. “Look, stop making a big deal out of this, okay? You’re making it weird. Just get over here.”

“Okay.” What else is there to say? As he quietly walks over, Selina shucks off her boots and her ever-present leather jacket. Pausing unconsciously, he tries not to stare at how different she looks without it. Still so very strong, but more petite, softer, her curls a fiery halo in the streetlights. Sitting down, it’s hard to deny just how small the mattress was. His at the manor was probably bigger, and it hadn’t slept two. When he leans back to pull his boots off his shoulders accidentally bump Selina’s. Her response to his quiet apology is to roll her eyes, slip under the covers and turn to face the windows.

‘Okay, Bruce,' he thinks. 'This doesn’t have to be weird. Just get under the covers and stay on your side. But the bed is so small, what if I accidentally touch her? What if I have a nightmare? What if…?’

“Kid, quit thinking so damn hard!” she snaps, whirling around to glare at him. “I can’t sleep with you sitting there like a freaking gargoyle. Just get in!”

“Sorry.”

Climbing under the covers, Bruce can’t help but enjoy the pleasant newness of her warmth next to him and the faint scent of her surrounding him. Falling asleep to the sound of her breathing is something he could get used to.

 

* * *

 

 

“No, don’t… no! Don’t! Come back…”

Waking up to someone else’s nightmare is also new, but much less pleasant. When she gives him a sharp kick to the shin he swears softly and sits up. Upon shaking the sleepy fog from his head he realizes that she’s thrashing and whimpering, periodically catching him with an elbow or heel.

“Hey, Selina,” he murmurs

“No! Don’t take… Bruce!”

He freezes, fingers an inch away from her shoulder. Is she…?

“Don’t… hurt… no! Bruce!”

Not even daring to think about what this means, he says, “Selina, it’s okay.” He pushes her shoulder now, firmly.

She bolts upright in a manner Bruce thought only existed in cartoons, gasping and reeling. Her eyes wild and so terrified, she shoves him hard before realizing who he is.

“Shit, Bruce, I…” but she’s clutching her chest which continues to heave breathlessly, and suddenly he understands this isn’t just the nightmare.

“Selina, you’re having a panic attack.”

“I know!” she snarls at him, turning away and swinging her legs off the bed. Rushing around to kneel in front of her before he’s even really consciously decided to, he tries to take her hands. Despite her efforts to bat him away and insist ‘I’m fine’, her eyes are starting to shine with tears, and he can see her screwing up her face, getting mad at herself for crying. It’s only serving to make her even more agitated.

“Hey,” he’s manages to grab her hands now, causing her to freeze and stare wordlessly at him. “I’ve had them too, ever since my parents died. The first one was so bad Alfred took me to the ER. You’ve had them before?” On her nod he continues, “What have you done before to stop them?”

She grits out “I don’t –” before just shaking her head. No strategy, then. Her hands are trembling in his and he gives them a gentle squeeze, which she rewards with a watery, self-deprecating smile. And his heart almost bursts with warmth at that moment, because she trusts him with this, this ferociously independent young woman who is positively catlike in her unwillingness to show weakness.

“Sorry kid,” she manages to stutter, “bet you would’ve stayed with Jeeves if you knew you’d be dealing my shit.” The twist in her mouth and quirk of her eyebrows are probably an attempt at bravery, but all Bruce can see is a flash of just how much she hates herself for her own brokenness and he wants to find a thousand ways to show Selina how extraordinary she is. It’s possibly an odd time to realize yet again just how strongly he lo- likes this girl, and his gaze must show something of this intensity as she ducks and hides behind her fringe of curls.

“Okay, I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but we both know you can. Let’s do some deep breaths together.” They manage two slow, shaky breaths together before she is gasping again and furiously clutching at his hand, and he remembers the pained cries of his name during her nightmare.

“Selina, I don’t know what your dream was about,” not a total lie. Sure, he knows it involved him somehow, but doesn’t technically know its contents, “but whatever it was, you’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”

"You can’t promise that, Bruce!” she says, “you’ve already hurt me once. You left me, you didn’t trust me!”

With Silver.” He doesn’t mean it as a question, but she nods in confirmation.

“I am sorry. You were being a good friend, and I threw that away because I was flattered by her attention. I know now you’d never try to hurt me. I knew it before, but your willingness to sacrifice our friendship to keep me safe reinforced that even more. And that’s what I can promise you: I will never, ever deliberately hurt you. Maybe we’ll have more… disagreements,” her snort makes clear she thinks that will _definitely_ be the case, “but you are my best friend, and protecting you will always come first. I don’t want to lose you again.”

As he concludes, she meets his eyes again and the intensity of her gaze nearly blindsides him. No-one has ever looked at him quite like that, with such fierce warmth and maybe even…something more? There’s no time to contemplate further, though, because Bruce finds himself with a face full of tawny curls and an armful of Selina Kyle. She buries her face in his neck, and the sensations of her arms snug around him and the little puffs of breath on his collar bone are so completely intoxicating that he fleetingly wishes they could stay like this forever.

"Don’t ever do something dumb like that again, kid. If you take too long to wise up next time, I might be too late,” she mutters, voice wobbling.

“In the future, please let me know if I’m doing something dumb again,” he can’t help but quip. “Being kidnapped by formerly exiled mortal enemies of my family who intend to use me in a ritualistic murder was very unpleasant. I’d rather not repeat the experience.”

And now he can feel her grinning against his throat. It’s rather _spectacularly_ nice. Her chest seems to have stopped heaving – and the way she is pressed up against him, he would know – but just to be sure he asks if she’s feeling better.

“My chest still hurts a bit. I know it will go away, but it still sucks,” she grouses. Though he’d thought it impossible, she curls into him even more closely, apparently in no rush to move. He experimentally strokes her back and the unconscious little groan, almost a purr, she lets out is a whole new revelation. Holy cow, she _likes_ it. Emboldened, he tries drawing slow circles on the small of her back. The effect is instantaneous; she sags in his arms, suddenly boneless and relaxed.  As he gently pulls her into a deepening calm, his mind wanders. She’s so independent, so solitary. When was the last time she let someone comfort her like this? When was the last time someone offered?

“C’mon, Selina,” he gently shifts them back towards the middle of the bed. “We’ve gotta get up early tomorrow. You said you’d show me Gotham’s criminal underbelly.” She’s still showing no signs of wanting to move, so he reluctantly pulls away long enough to maneuver back under the covers. It’s only when she’s down beside him, back turned, that he realizes his hand is still resting on her waist. As he begins to pull it away, a strong hand clamps down on his, keeping it in place around her.

“Is this…?”

“Shut up, kid. Just go to sleep.” She burrows her fingers between his and pulls their joined hands around to rest on her stomach.

Okay then.

And in his last conscious moment before drifting off, he grins at her murmur of, “And besides, most criminals don’t work mornings, Bruce. I ain’t waking up before noon unless you set something on fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first piece of creative writing in an embarrassingly long time, but I love this ship so damn much. Suffice to say 2.18 broke my heart, so I needed some fluff to heal. Thanks for reading!


End file.
